


Between the Shadows and the Soul

by lulahbelle



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Longing, M/M, Marcus is the subbiest sub to ever sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:27:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lulahbelle/pseuds/lulahbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When at the Seal village Marcus wants and misses Esca so much that he has to go to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Shadows and the Soul

**Author's Note:**

> This was written a long time ago for this [prompt](http://the-eagle-kink.livejournal.com/2834.html?thread=3059730#t3059730) on the kinkmeme It must be said that the supreme goddess known as poziomeczka gave me considerable beta'ing help with this -- not that I want you to blame her for it's badness I have edited it again since then. Title is from [one of the most beautiful sonnets I've read in my entire life so far](http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xvii/) by Pablo Neruda -- every line of that poem fits Marcus' love for Esca in this thing...
> 
> Much anachronism (seal people using clay lamps eh self?), and MARCUS MAAAANPAIN! Also excessive excavation of the contents of the mind, and the intentions as opposed to ACSHION - although there is a bit of that too, as well as a bit of the other.
> 
> I've written Marcus as the subbiest sub to ever sub in the history of subdom.

Iced wind from the sea rolled up over the hills of the Seal Village.

Marcus sat on the grass in ripped tunic trying to bear this cold as it bit hard on his bruises.

He had found no sleep since Esca's betrayal and his exhausted body weakened more with each day. Tense with need to defend himself from blows which came at all times he was made of ache, his heart galloping in his chest. He had begun to shiver too, even when down in the body heat of the slave tent, the reflex now beyond response to the cold and settled into a permanent state of being.

His mind fared little better.  Though his warrior spirit rallied reserves of fortitude and hatred to keep him, these defenses were being beaten back. 

Humiliated and lost in a land of savages', far from any hope of rescue, with little feasible chance of escape, despair came as easily to him as it had done at his Uncle's villa in the aftermath of his injury.

He got so delirious with all this torment, so in need of consolation of any sort from it, that waking dreams - like the hallucinations of strong mead, began to appear behind his sore eyes. 

These were of happy memories, of times spent before providing him with desperate distraction.

But even there was he shamed, for the greater part of these thoughts was Esca.

Before fate brought Esca, Marcus had been a cold solitary man, his life without joy or pleasure. 

Preoccupied by his father's fate, then with his quest to free himself of its burden, he had spent his young years as a soldier aiming to be a leader. He had trained himself to be able and willing to stand alone at all times and not changed with command, believing it better for his men that he had no actual human friendship with them or warmth to his concern for them - for that way he could be more objective, decisive, and intelligent in his calculations and orders.

Hard and of the opinion that anything of his body and mind could, and should, be met by itself he had spent no lust in prostitutes, kept no body slave, and had a level of scorn for those who did have need of them.

He had lived an empty, unfulfilled life and accepted it, content to be unhappy, to suffer, for what he considered a higher cause.

Esca had softened his independent resolve through and through with the flame of his devotion. Given to Marcus as a soother his care was single minded and focused. It had rooted out Marcus' essential self, with all its concealed reliance and childish weakness, without shame or qualm in receiving it, or neglect in catering to it.

Esca had fulfilled Marcus in a way no one had and in this way snuck his way within him, rooting deep and low.

What had grown between them had been so satisfying to Marcus that it shamed the life he had before. Esca had been all Marcus had for a long enough time that not having him now, felt to him like he had nothing.

He was now intensely weak and unable to go on in the face of Esca's seperation and betrayal. 

So now, as Marcus gutted fish he would not be allowed to eat, or did some other demeaning task, on the sloping green hills of the Seal village, wincing, and holding back even reflexive tears at the cold wind, he had no choice but to hold himself together with thoughts of Esca

Blissful, needful images of him stacked upon one another, the vision of that pale face, when it had been caught almost in quirk of a smile at him. Or of him down, knees peeking from beneath his tunic hem, gently slaking the pain of his wounds in his uncle's villa.

Beautiful peaked face, firm jaw set hard, rebellious, eyes glittering with concern as they looked to him.

So far back in time and miles stretched southwards these times seemed now as though they were all the calmness of heaven - the ultimate panacea to Marcus' distressed soul.

Marcus wished he had Esca again, now, hands moving over the bruise to his jaw made by the Seal chieftain, shushing over his red eyes commanding that he sleep - staying by his side, and looking with dissapproval fixed upon him until he did as he was told. Esca, whose throat he should want to slit, who had probably never cared for him at all, who had betrayed and beat him. Who held him now in hatred and bondage, his compact stance now a total threat of pain and humiliation rather than salve.

That it was he, his truest enemy, and thoughts of him and all they had seemingly meant to one another that kept Marcus, caused him confusion and shame so intense too that he somewhat longed for his own extinction to escape it. But what he could do to remove it from himself though he did not know. He had not chosen his surrender to Esca in the first place. Rather it had sprung up a deep part of him in response to his care. Now no matter how wrong it was, or how disgusted it made him feel, it was still with him, infiltrated into the core of his body, become a part of himself, and now he had not the strength to refuse it.

He felt wretched and damned, and so far from his Gods.

For a time, clinging to something, anything honourable, he kept walls in his mind between the giving, loving, fantasy Esca in his heart, of his memories and longings and Esca as he was now. The sullen, hard faced traitor who strode around the place so alien and entirely ignorant of him as he did, for he no longer even paused to growl orders at Marcus or hit him anymore.

But these boundaries broke apart under the derangement of exhaustion, until to his great woe Marcus began to long for Esca, his betrayer as much as he did for Esca his soother - willing to ignore and disregard Esca's poor treatment of him, his deception, anything for the nourishment and necessity of him.

He stared as Esca smiled at others. Jealous that they received the expression which had once only been given to him.

Late at night, in his own space in the slave tent, Marcus found himself irrationally desperate to go to him. He wanted Esca as he had been and as he was, felt unable to exist without him. The purest, most self abased need in his veins. At the same time he shuddered with revulsion, praying to keep strong in the name of decency as he rocked and tensed up with the urge.

His heart pounded so fast it could choke him, and the wish churned and turned over inside him, but never faded away.

There was no mercy.

The fact that Esca was hostile, that he might harm him did not dissuade him from his want to go to him as it should have done. For Marcus felt that with honour, and dignity now gone, as though he wanted Esca to destroy or harm him. His own code of decency almost demanded it as his fate himself, for he was so wrong in his needs and desires that he was not a man any longer, certainly not a warrior.

He wondered fearfully if Esca would even hit him, or whether he had lost him even as an enemy, would he just stare dully ahead as if they had never met.

His mind became feverish with imagining such rejection, refusing, he had thoughts of provoking him. He thought of going to him out amongst the tribe, and licking at his neck as he once had, like an animal. How Esca would punish him for such a display. Maybe he would sink hands around his throat hard, until life left him, until he expired, with nothing but the memory of Esca's skin on his lips - his most essential desire.

Perhaps he would just beat him as he had before, but this time without end, reigning blows upon him until he was unconscious, nothing, no shame, no pain, no fierce fear, or disquiet, and worry about the dishonour of his soul. Nothing. If Esca killed him he could make him nothing, and in this world where the alternative was being the lusting slave of savages it felt like the best he could get.

All the same Marcus shivered at the thoughts, terrified by his capacity to be fulfilled by contemplating such unpleasant offenses against himself. Yet the truth of his wish to sacrifice and surrender was alive inside him, undeniable, no more chosen than what part of the empire he had grown up in.

Marcus remembered Esca as he once was for himself. The kindness of his touch on his leg, on his body, the conflict large in his eyes, and hitched breath as Marcus leaned forward to stroke his hair lovingly in return, as they joined mouths, compelled and caught. Was how he felt now how Esca had felt then? Disgraced and helpless? Ground down into a twisted, unjustifiable longing for his captor, born of the dark, unquantifiable chaos of life smothering his decency.

Had he longed to be killed too, freed from all the shame and disgust at the wrong nature of his longings.

He recalled Esca's face as he had fucked him, it seemed now to have been contorted with this same horror at his capacity to lust for something that destroyed him as he felt himself.

Marcus had never considered their conjunction from Esca's side before, never needed to until now that he was his equal

The shivering in his body seemed now to be emanating from his hips most of all, winding him rigid - he would be upset that he had an erection, if he wasn't so joyous at it.

He touched himself. There was simply nothing of his self respect to prevent it anymore, he was want and need and desperation for Esca in the mould of his body.

The soul deep satisfaction of surrender, melded with other need and memory, of Esca, given in entirely, taking ecstasy from him, his well meaning but imperious, and arrogant, master at his uncle's villa, by the side of the water where they cleaned their knives, pushed down amongst the long grass.

Marcus found he wanted to be as Esca was in his slavery, sexual and submissive, just as used. There seemed perhaps the slightest, fragile, perverse sense of honour in the fair exchange of it. He imagined it now, being taken with hands around his neck, that squeezed him tight, relentless, until he disappeared, until he really was less than nothing, bent entirely, made of the will of another and he felt tremulous with excitement amidst all his pain because he knew peace was at hand.

With nothing left of himself to protect, there would be nothing to worry over anxiously. No torment. This thought of obliteration of various sorts had become the pinnacle of pleasure, and he spasmed with orgasm at his hand before he was aware of himself, and then at peace, filthy, degraded and with nothing in his heart but Esca, he became relaxed enough to sleep.

*

The mutinous longing for his own destruction barely calmed itself during the clarity of day. He tracked Esca with his eyes everywhere, as he conversed with the Seal Prince, as he gripped his arm to the shoulders of a small boy from the tribe who was taken with him. Esca's strength, and his own desire to be part of it ran hectic inside Marcus. It trapped thick in the column of his throat, so he felt it everytime he breathed, lacerating disgust for himself, alongside the ripping agony of his kicked ribs.

*

Esca had ripped his existence open. He stung in and out with the scour of the air.

*

He kept his low want down until he could not sleep without thought of it and was too tired and given in to suppress it.

*

The navy blue of the night was pierced by few lit torches, the tent buffetted by the ever present wind. Marcus watched covertly until the stream of blue faced people left, presumably leaving Esca, who he had seen enter earlier, alone inside, then, lifting from the shadows, hobbled inside to him.

*

The Seal people had found a way to enclose fire in small ceramic jars, and the interior was well lit by these miniature torches, there was some space too, not like the slave's tent.

Esca stood facing him, his eyes were not friendly.

"Marcus! What are you doing here?" His voice was a furious hiss.

"I need you Esca. I don't care what you do to me." Marcus felt his burden of shame at this fact seep free of him with a harsh breath, until he held no care. It felt good.

"You're delirious! Get back to your sleeping area at once before I have them take you there." His voice was firm, not as savage as Marcus had imagined it might be, but his lips were a unyielding flat line.

Everything shook around Marcus, but the need to provoke Esca to take him in whatever way he would, even if that meant he continued on his path to destroying him. His breath came shallow to him and he cried, lost.

"I cannot live on like this Esca!"

Esca looked to him strangely soft. Marcus wondered if he was still capable of affection for him, and if he was, why he tormented him so.

"It is not my concern!"

Marcus sank to his knees broken, his pulse and his heart moaning together, reduced to begging to be taken in.

Esca growled, and lashed out, smashing him in the jaw with his fist. Marcus felt himself unravel with the pain, that crackled through the previous bruise, into his teeth, blossoming up into his head.

An inch closer to feeling nothing at all, he was in ecstasy, and crawled closer.

"Leave!"

Esca demanded. Marcus looked at him, making it clear with the sad slope of his eyes that he could not obey his request, then reached for him, grabbing a clumsy, clutching hand to his thigh which then moved up, rending his tunic at his hips.

Esca grabbed a hold of the back of his head by his hair in retaliation and pulled his head back to face him, Marcus felt the cool air on his bared neck, and closed his eyes, swooning, insensible with the feel of hands on him, even in such a savage touch. Looking at his face, Esca ran fingertips over its assorted bruises, cuts and marks, equal there as upon his body. He caught with especial focus on the area of hurt spread out over his jaw. Marcus winced, his eyes opening reflexively. Esca still regarded him, quite intently, in fixation, as if stirred to see him ill, or hurt, and Marcus hoped that Esca had no more rooted him out of his soul than he had in return, that his love merely lay dormant to be exposed again.

Esca pressed a finger back into Marcus' bruise again, angry, wanting to bring pain instead of simply sympathy. It sent agony through Marcus in a violent fluttery pulse. He felt himself sink into it, helplessly receiving, contrary to his every proper fighter's impulse.

"These were all needless. This was all needless." Esca said to Marcus, eyes burning, jaw firm, clearly levelling the blame at him.

"I was kicked, and hit, Esca, I did nothing."

"You're Roman, and you are where you do not belong, you earned these. Rome deserves them."

Esca spat at him.

Once Esca saw there was no fight in Marcus to his words, no assumption of dominance or prideful superiority hidden behind his guise of surrender, a strange relent seemed to come. He let go of Marcus' hair, and stopped struggling against him, instead allowing himself to be still, to be held by him tight and needy. With his lips crushed at Esca's belly, every muscle in Marcus relaxed, his head finally settled peacefully silent. His heart began to thrum slowly, and he could have slept so peacefully sound for having such unrestrained hold of him, for this was all he needed in life.

Marcus was abandoned by his fantasy of how this would proceed here, for he had never considered really that Esca would let him be this close to him, only that he would punish him for trying, and spill violence to console him instead, now he was adrift on warmth and contentedness.

Esca needled his fingertip at Marcus' bruised jaw again viciously, staring down at him, face kept entirely emotionless as Marcus winced, hissed, then writhed a little under the pain.

"You need to leave!"

"Esca please I will not survive the stir of my mind."

"I do not care."

His voice was still firm but his body made no break to free himself of Marcus' hold.

"You are all that is left, I cannot stay back from you, or be alone without wanting to wail and cry, and I cannot allow that. Anything is bearable at that, even if all you want of me is to strike me."

Marcus panted, terrified by the depravity and shame of the truth.

As he looked at Esca, fearful of his rejection, he felt sure the other would wrench them apart at this deplorable weakness, spit at him, leave, seperating him from all that warmth and satiation, abandoning him to a black pit of humiliation. He needed to be let alone or he would die, but he could not speak to prevent being pushed away, his throat instead letting out murmuring pleas.

Though he still did not clutch him in return Esca also did not, and could not refuse him, loyal as he had promised.

The terrific gratitude Marcus felt sent a thrill through him that heated his blood. He burnt with arousal, and more than this he felt a telltale stiffness from Esca against the hollow of his throat. He knew at once what he wanted, what it would take to bring them together. With low moaning he smoothed his hands down, relaxing them he held Esca's ass instead, its softness send a charge of base lust through him. He turned and rubbed his cheek over the flat plane of Esca's stomach, then sinking to his haunches to make himself smaller, rubbed down to the warmth of his cock beneath tunic and braccae.

He turned his mouth over the rising bulge in a kiss that he held, still and solemn, looking up, waiting for some permission from Esca, his to manipulate from toe to head. All the while his jaw ached with the desire to spread his mouth wide, and offer it for Esca to have as he wished.

Fellatio, this most disgusting, debasing of acts, seemed like such an appropriate surrender. He felt such warmth at the purity of his subserviance.

Esca's face screwed up, so tormented, sympathetic, and at once Marcus could no longer at all credit his betrayal. All here and all hard, it was short time before Esca unlaced the ties of his braccae letting his cock free. Marcus had his open mouth over it at once, his head empty save the need to be filled with it, used by it. He licked it, then brought his hand to it and started sucking, and sucking hard, as if his life depended on it, head bobbing, lips moving quickly slick with spit.

Esca whispered.

"Marcus this is dangerous, you don't know what you're doing. If they catch us together they will kill us."

Marcus' voice was a desperate rasp of need in return, his eyes turned upwards wide and pleading.

"I am your slave, and a man may fuck his slave's mouth whenever he sees fit. I was reminded of that fact often when I had you."  
Marcus felt with a punch how disrespectful Rome had been of Esca. His need to please Esca, felt fitting to make up to him the injuries he had caused by owning him.

"Uh Marcus."

Esca sobbed, as he clasped the back of Marcus's neck to command the open welcome he gave to his cock. Aggressive and frantic in bringing about his orgasm, Esca thrust immediately hard into him. Marcus breathed harsh through his nose and took, worshiping and surrendering, suckling greedily whenever he could get some semblance of control. Hands braced strong on Esca's hips, keeping him close, and his swallowing around him continuous.

Marcus' deep pained moans of need, and Esca's cock sliding wetly past his lips, butting at the back of his throat. Esca came holding his neck tightly, silent as Marcus swallowed his emission, but his lithe body shuddering with satisfaction.

His hands were at once on the collar of Marcus' tunic hard, yanking him up from his knees, dragging him up. Marcus' lust soaked pliability was no match for the energy of Esca's fury despite his height and weight advantage.

"You must leave now! Go!"

Esca demanded, his eyes full of fire. Though he ordered Marcus to leave he held him tight around his arms and began to scatter light kisses to his cheeks that turn more involved, and frantic, turned by the feel of his flesh until they found his mouth and became constant, falling desperate, little pants of breath aside the kissing, containing such apology, such confession of the woe it had caused him not to offer this comfort and reassurance of his continued affection before.

His hand descended, cupping around Marcus' arousal, rubbing its heat, feeling its outline all the way up until his palm settled across it's head, and finding that sweet spot, rocked up and down over it until Marcus gasped in his mouth and wetness soaked through the fabric of his dirty braccae. The rough fabric frictioning against stung a little, but the touch above it provided too much that was wanted for it to be wholly aversive.

Esca never stopped licking Marcus' mouth as he did it, and it had never been like this between them. Marcus was not the man Esca was, he could never find the irritation needed to take his slave in such a furious manner.

"Hurry and complete yourself!"

Esca whispered, panting, claiming proprietry licks to him aside each word. Marcus felt himself spasm as commanded, spattering warmly inside his clothes. His mouth slack and open, a stuttering, helpless moan of hard-won ecstasy escaping his lips. He was surprised when Esca clamped a hand over his mouth hard, fingernails digging into the flesh of his face.

"Sush!"

Esca spat. His tone was aggressive, dominant, and there was still anger in his eyes and fear, all dark beneath his fair hair.

He shook his head at Marcus, and growled.

"In future be obediant! Keep yourself alive for me, as I did for you. Now go! Before the others return and we are comprimised!"

His jaw clenching he refused to look at Marcus further, in some disgust with him for the risk to their necks he had just caused them to take.

Marcus' feet moved him away without taking further look, no matter how his heart longed to receive further assurance that Esca would save him, that he would enable him to escape, for now he was just pleased to be his, and to do as he commanded.


End file.
